Cosplay Hetalia
by The-Charcoal-Alchemist
Summary: The average person can't tell the difference between a good cosplayer and the real thing. Unfortunately, neither can the bad guys...Rated for safety in later chapters.
1. International Discovery

I have waaaaaay too many ideas like this in my head...and in my computer. Don't worry, I'm still working on "CotN" - I just need to get these plot bunnies out there so my mind can focus again.

* * *

The first one to find out had been Feliciano, the country of North Italy.

Japan hadn't even heard him coming until the selectively clumsy Italian had tripped over Pochi and crashed into the back of his chair, which slammed Japan into his desk and caused his pen to leave a nasty streak of ink across the face of the America sketch on the pace. "Veeee, Japan!" Italy popped up, grinning as if nothing had happened. "Are you drawing more manga? Can I see? Is it something for Doitsu? Why won't he let me look at those?" Japan hurriedly cover his work.

"Ah, Italia-san! This is not for you to see! No, it's not for Germany-san!" Italy pouted.

"Veeeee….Japan, why can't I see?" The taller man promptly reached around Japan and grabbed the paper. "Is it a secret? I promise I won't tell!" Japan frowned, but slowly let go of the paper.

"Well….I guess you can see…if you promise."

"Veee! I do!"

Italy didn't. Less than two months later, America showed up at Japan's door with England and Canada. England was furious over the apparent depiction of his cooking skills, America claimed he hadn't been "heroized" enough, and Canada was simply ecstatic that Japan had remembered him at all! The day after that, Greece showed up, with the simple complaint that his close friend had been forgetting to add Corporal Cat. Then Russia visited, with "suggestions" for future episodes.

This is how the nation of the world discovered that they were being portrayed as popular anime, manga and web comic characters, under the name "Axis Powers Hetalia".

* * *

Soon enough, the show had become popular enough to make the jump overseas, and not long after, the nation himself discovered Hetalia cosplayers at his anime conventions. Ecstatic, he'd run straight out and talked England, France, Canada, Japan, Italy and Germany into visiting - "You HAVE to see these cosplayers! They've got us down so good it's CRAZY!" - and even offered to host them for a weekend at Zenkaikon '11.

Being the closest, geographically, Canada arrived first. France and England arrived within hours of each other, and fought the entire taxi ride to the hotel. Germany, Italy and Japan arrived as a group, and met the others at the chosen hotel. America stood in front of the doors, grinning widely, and put his hands on his hips heroically. "Okay! Get ready for this, 'cause it's chaos inside!"

"Because. _Because_ it's _chaotic_ inside. Use proper english!" England growled. America ignored him and threw open the doors.

"Behol- OH JEEZ sorry." The Halo cosplayer who'd just been smacked upside the face by the door stumbled back, lifted his replica Halo Assault Rifle….and shot America in the forehead with a suction dart. The wordily superpower laughed as he pulled it off and handed it back. The cosplayer took the dart and simply walked away. America turned back to the five - no, six - speechless nations behind him. "Well? Come on in! Behold the Awesome that is Zenkaikon '11!" Six nations stared at him.

"…Alfred, that guy just shot you." Canada pointed out.

"Girl. I think that was a girl, actually. They play Halo, too." America interrupted his twin. "And it was just a suction dart!" He laughed. "None of the weapons here are real! They're all cardboard or plastic, and they all have to be tagged and checked before coming in." He walked over and threw an arm around his twin's shoulders, dragging him into a suffocating one-arm hug that bordered on a chokehold. "Relax, Mattie, and enjoy the atmosphere! Believe it or not, a lot of people here cosplay as you! Can't imagine why, I'm much more awesome…" He added under his breath. Canada paused.

"….they cosplay as…me?" His grip around Kumajirou tightened, and the polar bear squirmed until he could breathe again. "They know me?"

"Yep!" America dropped his twin and moved to France and England, popping up between them and slinging an arm over both. "And just wait 'til you two see your cosplayers!"

"_Until_." England stressed as he lifted America's arm off his shoulder with clear distain. "The word is _until_, not _'til_."

"Whatever, Iggy," America let go and held up his arms in submission. "Just follow me - I already checked us all in! We just need to pick up our badges and some maps at the front counter."

"Maps?" Germany repeated. "This place does not look that big." America's grin widened immediately.

"That's 'cause you haven't been inside." He smirked. "…did I mention the buffet has pasta?"

"Pasta!" Italy raced past the group and into the building.

"Italy, wait!" Ludwig ran after him. America wrapped Canada in another inescapable chokehold/hug and dragged him inside, leaving France, England and Japan on the curb.

"I say we go," France smirked. "I want to see how well these…cosplayers think they know us."

"Pretty well. I'm sure I used all possible detail…" Japan muttered. England stiffened.

"You. Did. What?" Japan started.

"Ah! N-nothing!" He rushed into the building before the pirate gentleman could reach across France and strangle him. England raced inside after him, screaming 'What detail!' France followed at the back, giggling the whole while. The automatic hotel doors closed behind him, and a few moments later, a bus of convention goers pulled up beneath the covered driveway.

* * *

A short first chapter, but these all began as funny snippets that somehow ended up relating to each other. I'll try to make the others longer...or at least keep to a uniform length...


	2. North America

Second chapter. This one was already longer than the first, so these notes are only making things worse. XD Enjoy.

* * *

As the bus squeaked to a halt, the passengers began to stir. Many had fallen asleep during what had been, from the start, a two hour ride. Near the front of the bus, a tall blond man stretched, then reached over to wake his little sister. "Hey, Jordan," He muttered quietly. "Wake up. We're here." His nineteen year old sister opened her eyes lazily.

"Mrr?" She questioned wordlessly. Michael Shane smirked.

"Uh huh." He nodded, standing up to grab their bags from the overhead compartments. "Come on, I'm not going to carry your cosplay." He dropped a black duffle bag on the sleepy girl's lap. "You made it, you carry it." Jordan growled, but fought her way up from a sleeping position on the bus seat and hauled the bag over her shoulder.

"Fine, fine…." She grudgingly edged out of the seat as her brother hopped down the steps, stretching his legs as soon as he had the room. "Why could't I just wear mine like you did?" Jordan complained as she hobbled down the stairs, tugging at the shoulder strap that was a little too long. Michael smirked and tugged at the neck of the red sweatshirt with a white maple leaf design.

"Because, as I recall, you refused to wear a heavy jacket and a tie for a two hour ride." He chuckled as he pulled their shared suitcase from the mass of luggage the driver had pulled out from below. "Besides, I needed the room in my bag for Kumajirou, since you wouldn't carry him."

"He chewed holes in my socks last time!" Jordan complained, finally stopping to shorten her shoulder strap. "….and shouldn't we walk him, soon?" Michael looked around, then gestured quietly for Jordan to grab her bag and follow him. He dragged the suitcase into the shadow of a pillar that held up the driveway roof, then reached around and pulled back the zipper of his carefully handled duffle bag.

"Kumajirou?" The white Pomeranian poked his head through the opening, ears perked up as if to ask, "What?" Michael smiled and scratched his ears. "Good boy, Kuma. Good, quiet boy." He looked at Jordan. "The bus driver said no pets - we can't let him see Kumajirou until we check in." Jordan sighed.

"Fine….but he's not riding in my bag on the way home!" She argued. Michael gently pushed Kumajirou back into the bag and zipped it up, leaving a small gap.

"Your bag smells like used socks, anyways." He retorted as he picked up the suitcase and marched inside. Jordan followed.

"It does not!" She cried indignantly. Michael stopped inside and pulled some papers from his sweatshirt pocket.

"Here," He handed them to Jordan. "You go get us checked in at the front table, and I'll check us into the hotel. Then we'll meet at the room, and you can get ready for the opening panels." Inside the bag, Kumajirou started to pace, and barked. Michael pulled back the zipper again, and the Pomeranian popped out, tail wagging.

"Good thing this hotel is dog-friendly." Jordan murmured.

"Remember, it's room 204." Michael reminded her. "Meet me there after you get the passes, schedules and maps, and I'll give you the room key." Jordan nodded and handed her brother her bag.

"I've got it, I've got it, room 204. Just walk Kumajirou before you come back down, and make sure he'll still 'play dead'." She warned. "This hotel may be pet-friendly, but the convention, in general, isn't.". Jordan paused to scratch Kumajirou's ears, unable to resist the Pomeranian's utter fluffiness. "Don't get caught, Kuma!" Then she turned and headed for the check in line - which was growing rather long, despite the early hour. Michael picked up the suitcase again, and, now juggling Jordan's bag along with Kumajirou, stumbled to the front desk.

After checking in, Michael dragged everything to the elevators, and tried to fit everything into one corner. That done, he set Kumajirou and his bag on top of the suitcase, and rubbed his head. "Remind me to get you some peanut butter tonight." He chuckled. Kumajirou barked excitedly and hopped up and down in the bag, not even clearing the zipper. Michael laughed quietly and pressed the button for the second floor.

"Wait!" A voice called out suddenly. "Hold the elevator!" Michael quickly tapped the 'door open' button, then held the doors open as an America cosplayer and a fellow Canada cosplayer boarded the elevator. "Thanks, dude!" The America cosplayer grinned as the doors closed. "We didn't want to have to take the stairs."

"Alfred, we're only on the second floor." The Canada cosplayer spoke up quietly. Alfred waved a hand flippantly.

"Second floor or not, it's still too far. Besides, Mattie, you meet people in elevators!" He grinned at Michael and offered his hand. "Hi! I'm Alfred F. Jones! Who're you?"

"Michael Shane - Canada, for the weekend." Michael smirked, returning the handshake. This cosplayer seemed just a little too enthusiastic…but maybe this was their first convention? Those were always the most exciting. He looked at the other Canada cosplayer. "And you?"

"This is my brother Mattie!" Alfred proclaimed before his brother could speak. "We're twins, you know!" The Canada cosplayer smiled quietly and held out his hand to Michael, somewhat timidly.

"Matthew Williams, eh. It's a pleasure to meet you, Michael." Michael smiled as he returned the handshake.

"Pleasure's mine, Matthew." Kumajirou barked, trying to hop out of his bag again.

"Awwww!" Alfred's attention was instantly captivated. "He's so cuuuute! What's his name?"

"Kumajirou." Matthew perked up.

"Really, eh?" Michael nodded. "What a coincidence," He looked down at the white bear in his arms. "That's this little guy's name, too." Michael chuckled.

"Great minds think alike, I guess." Alfred scratched the Pomeranian's ears and rubbed his head, overcome by the cuteness.

"So why'd you bring him? I thought the convention didn't allow pets?" Michael shrugged.

"Probably the same reason you brought your Kumajirou." Matthew blinked.

"…he's usually so quiet, people just assume he's a toy." He replied. "How do you get away with it?"

"Same way." Michael lifted Kumajirou from the bag and held him in one arm. "Kumajirou…" He crooned, making sure he had the Pomeranian's attention. "Play dead." The little dog flopped over immediately. Alfred burst out laughing.

"That's awesome!" He cried. "And he'll do that all day?" Kumajirou 'came alive' and wagged his tail.

"Whenever the security guards pass." Michael nodded. The elevator arrived at the second floor, and all three stepped out. Alfred and Matthew turned left, while Michael and Kumajirou turned right.

"I like that guy." Alfred declared as Matthew opened the door to their shared room. "I hope we see him tomorrow."

* * *

First two cosplayers introduced. Initial contact successful.


	3. USA, USSR

Definitively the shortest so far, this chapter went through a fair share of editing from its original text...and by that, I mean I wrote more. XD

* * *

Jordan felt like her feet were about to fall off. She had been standing in line for what felt like hours, and hadn't even moved forward two feet. Up at the front of the line, some Halo cosplayer was chatting it up with one of the staff members, effectively holding everybody else up. There were still three hours until the official opening time, so no one was really in enough of a hurry to complain.

This annoyed the young cosplayer even more.

She was stiff from sleeping on a bus for two hours, and had no intention of waiting in line for another two, simply because some staffer thought a dart gun was cool. She was just about to scream something inappropriate and unfeminine at the Halo cosplayer, when another voice beat her to it.

"MOVE IT OR LOSE IT, YA NOOB! YOU AIN'T THE ONLY ONE WITH A WEAPON OF MASS DESTRUCTION, DA?"Jordan blinked and looked around. She knew that voice! Granted, she hadn't seem the person in over four months, but she knew her!

"...Ashley?"

"...Jordan?"

"Ashley, where are you?"

"Over here!"

"….jump! I can't see you!" About ten people back in line, a sunflower suddenly popped up over the shoulder of a Cloud cosplayer. Big, plastic, and alarmingly yellow, it began to bob up and down behind the cosplayer, as if bouncing on a trampoline.

"Here! Follow the dancing sunflower!" The Cloud cosplayer leaned out from the line and raised an eyebrow.

"Do…you two want to stand together?"

"Please?" Two girls put on puppy pout faces. The Cloud cosplayer shrugged.

"I'll trade places with Americ-"

"Deal!" Jordan bolted down the line and shoved the Cloud cosplayer into her spot, ignoring the dirty glares from the convention-goers in between. Then she turned around and leapt at the Russia cosplayer carrying a plastic sunflower almost as large as herself. "Ashley!"

"Jordan!" The two girls squealed and hugged, bouncing up and down for a minute.

"I can't believe you made it!" Jordan grinned. "I thought your flight got cancelled!"

"I found an earlier one! I got in last night." Ashley smirked. "It was a good deal, da?"

"Totally." Jordan giggled. "Oh, wait…that was Poland, not America." Ashley snorted.

"Ah, close enough." The Halo cosplayer finally stopped chatting and left, and the line began to move forward. "So, is Michael here, too?"

"Yup! We're staying at the hotel this year." Jordan nodded. "Hey, do you remember the Germany and Prussia cosplayers we met last year?"

"The girl and the Germany who could actually bring a doberman? Um, yah, I remember them!"

"Well, we all agreed to meet up again this year. You haven't seen them yet, have you?" Ashley frowned.

"No, sorry. It's still very early in the day, though. I'm sure we'll see them if they're coming."

"I hope…" Jordan nodded, walking backwards with the line to keep talking face-to-face with Ashley. "Gillian's probably the best Prussia cosplayer I've ever met - she's crazy!"

"Crazy good, da?"

"Da. She's a natural albino, too, and she makes her own cosplay (and her cousin's, too), so she automatically outlevels us in awesome." Jordan mused. Ashley giggled. "But not in heroism!" Jordan added hurriedly, striking a pose that would have been much more effective had she been a few inches taller. "That's my department. I'm the hero!" Ashley laughed.

"You are not even acting anymore - you are turning into America." She remarked. Jordan smirked.

"Well, I is, anyway." She grinned. "I even added to my cosplay this year! On that subject," She reached into her replica bomber jacket and grabbed something from a pocket hidden within the lining. "Hungry?" Jordan grinned as she stuck the - now cold - hamburger in Ashley's face. The Russia cosplayer leaned back.

"Mmm...nyet. I will pass." She smiled. "But I modified my cosplay, too. Hold this, da?" She handed her sunflower to Jordan and reached beneath her own jacket, pulling out...a foam pick axe that was about half the size of the flower, a small brown teddy bear wearing an Ushanka, and a small glass bottle with 'Root Bear' crossed out and replaced with 'Vodka' in black Sharpie. Jordan blinked.

"Damn, girl..." The American frowned behind the sunflower. "...you realize, this means war?" Ashley grinned.

"Cold war, da?"

"That would be historical, yes." They slowly moved backwards, following the line as it moved so...painfully...slowly..."Binding gives us a lot of room, doesn't it?" Jordan suddenly spoke up. Ashley blinked.

"...well, I suppose it gives YOU room." Jordan poked at her nearly-flat chest. "I prefer breathing, myself."

"It really doesn't hurt, if you do it right." Jordan grinned. "I went with a sports bra this time, and then put on the ACE bandages. Two this time. It'll hurt once the weekend's over, but it'll be worth it!"

"You hope." Ashley frowned as a thought occured to her. "Waitaminute...you told me you can't reach behind your back because of that time you broke both shoulders-"

"Falling off a horse." Jordan interrupted with a wistful smile. "Nice horse...baaaaad day to be riding."

"So...since you can't reach your own back, how did you wrap the ACE bandage?" Ashley asked. Jordan paused.

"...Michael."

"...you're lucky he's your brother, or that would be weird."

* * *

Third cosplayer introduced. Ashley belongs to my good friend takeachip, from DA.


	4. Axis 1

By far, the most detailed chapter to date. Plus, some hints about the other cosplayers. XD

* * *

"It's fine."

"No, it's not. It's still crooked."

"Gillian-"

"Hold still and lemme fix it!" Markus Kaiser sighed long-sufferingly and dropped his arms, letting his older cousin nudge the iron cross clip into its place on the front of his jacket's collar. After a minute, the albino woman stepped back in success. "Got it!"

"Good." Markus slowly felt his hand along the counter of the hotel bathroom until he encountered his folded up cane, which he picked up, and tightened the wrist strap around his wrist. "Then let's get Berlitz and go check in…..though I still don't see why we have to dress up for THAT…"

"Because we're supposed to meet those other Hetalia cosplayers we met, way back when!" Gillian explained, checking the straightness of her Prussia jacket in the mirror. "You remember…the Austria who doesn't talk, the Hungary who sneezes real loud, the Canada who can kick my ass - tell anyone I said that and you die - and the America who's really short." Satisfied that her own cosplay was as awesome as who it was meant to represent, Gillian turned to her cousin with a grin and grabbed his arm. "Here, you go wait downstairs - I'll get Berlitz!"

"But-" Markus was cut off by the slamming of the room door behind him. "….I need Berlitz to get down…." He groaned, and extended his hand. Feeling the door handle, he recalled the turns he and his cousin had made to get there only two hours prior, and turned to his right. "The elevators should be down here…" Markus tapped his way down the carpeted hall, keeping one hand on the elbow-level trimming until it fell away from his fingers at the corner.

"…left." The young man turned to his left and walked a little further, until he heard the end of his cane run into the metal trash can that resided between the elevators. With something of a relieved sigh - this was never easy - Markus reached out until his fingertips found the corner of the metal plate that surrounded the buttons. He dragged his hand down and across until he found both buttons, and pressed the one furthest down. A moment later, the doors dinged, and opened with a soft mechanical whine.

Once inside the elevator, Markus encountered a new problem. Gillian had worked the buttons on the way up, and she hadn't told him how many floors the hotel had, or which direction the numbers ran - lowest to highest or highest to lowest. This presented Markus with a vast number of possible buttons, not to mention the fire alarm, emergency stop, door open and door close buttons.

His fingers wandered across he metal beneath the raised plastic squares, but the brail nubs there were worn down, broken, and otherwise useless. Markus groaned. Maybe he should just take the stairs. At least there, he had a handrail to desperately cling to as he edged his way down the towering black pit of doom…..

"Ve~ I'll get it!" Startled by the sudden voice, Markus' head whipped in its direction. An arm brushed past his, and the "L" button dinged as a hand pressed it. "You're cosplay looks really good! You really look like Doitsu!" Markus resisted the urge to raise an eyebrow. 'Ve~'? 'Doitsu'? The person must be a North Italy cosplayer.

_[A very in character one, at that.],_ Markus decided. He nodded in the direction of the voice.

"Thanks…my cousin Gillian will be happy to hear you say that. She created it."

"Vee~ she must be good!" The voice praised. ""Does your cousin cosplay, too?"

"Yes, she cosplays as Prussia."

"Ooh! Is she an albino, too, ve?"

"Er…yes, she is." Markus replied slowly, finding that to be a somewhat intrusive question.

"Wow! Ve~ her cosplay must be really good then!" The elevator car shook, a little more than its normal movement, and Markus could only assume the N. Italy cosplayer was jumping up and down in excitement. The car then stopped, and the doors dinged as they opened, signaling their arrival at the lobby. "Vee~" A pair of arms suddenly curled around Markus' free arm. "You have to meet Doitsu! He'll love your cosplay!"

"W-wait! I'm supposed to meet my cousin-" Markus got no further before he was tugged out of the elevator car and out across the lobby, being dragged and squeezed through crowds of people without much hesitation. Whoever this cosplayer was, they certainly hat N. Italy's personality nailed….

Two minutes later, the elevator cars opened again, releasing Michael Shane and Gillian Kaufer, who was leading a mid-sized Doberman Pincer, wearing the harness and jacket of an internationally recognized seeing-eye dog, on a short nylon leash. Gillian was in the middle of praising her latest round of cosplay genius - figuring out how to slick back Markus' hair without using hairspray or thick, smelly gel - while Michael just smiled and nodded along, having lost track of the conversation. Gillian suddenly stopped when Berlitz sat down and refused to go any further. "Come on, Berlitz! Markus obviously didn't wait for us, so we can't hang around. We need to check in!" The Doberman turned her head pointedly in the direction her charge had been dragged, and barked softly. Michael smirked.

"Maybe she knows where he went? I'll bet Berlitz can track your cousin down - you need him to register Berlitz at the sign-in tables, anyway"" Gillian thought for a moment, pondering this idea, before she broke into a wide grin.

"Great idea! Glad I thought of it!" Michael made a face.

"But-"

"Berlitz!" Gillian interrupted Michael and dropped the nylon leash. "Find Markus!" Needing no further encouragement, the Doberman set off at a good trot through the crowd, with Gillian and Michael following close behind.

* * *

Poor Markus has no idea what he's in for...


	5. Encounters of the Russian Kind

Another short chapter that went through heavy revision. Geez, Jordan and Ashley can't catch a break. XD

* * *

"Well…" Jordan stuffed the convention map back in the little plastic baggie while Ashley fiddled with her ID tag, carefully maneuvering the little paper card into the annoyingly stiff plastic sleeve. "That took longer than expected."

"It wouldn't have, if the staffers would just keep up on current popular anime." Ashley brushed a lock of pale blond hair from her eyes. "I mean, really - how can a person who works at an anime convention NOT have heard of Hetalia?" She hefted her sunflower over her shoulder like a rifle as the two began walking away from the sign-in tables.

"I know!" Jordan draped her own convention ID over her head, and wrapped Michael's around her wrist. "But we're finally out of that damn line…" She sighed. "So…I have to go find Michael and give him his ID. I doubt he stayed in the room…he never does, and I can't remember the room number, anyway." She shrugged. "Hey Ashley, wanna help me look for a tall Canada, carrying a Pomeranian, who looks like he could kick Russia's ass?"

"Sure!"

"Who could kick my ass?" Both girls froze and spun around…then looked up.

"….dude!" Jordan gasped. "How'd you get your eyes that color?" Russia blinked.

"They are naturally this color, da?" He replied The America cosplayer giggled.

"Omigod, you sound just like him, too!"

"Yeah! This is - by far! - the best Russia cosplay I've seen!" Ashley fangirled. Russia tilted his head. "And you're the perfect height, too! How 'come we've never seen you before!"

"I just flew in from Teyhuti. Silly America 'forgot' his wallet at my place." Russia smiled childishly. "There is nothing interesting in it, so I came to give it back. You know where he is, da?" He looked down at Jordan, then tilted his head. "You are not him."

"…no." Jordan inwardly glowered at the (possibly) unintentional jab at her somewhat-accurate/somewhat-Fem!America cosplay. "No I'm not. I'm Jordan!" She offered her hand with a cheery smile. "I just cosplay." Russia's hand easily encased her own, and he returned her enthusiastic smile with a brighter one of his own, and a handshake that damn near shook the young woman's arm out of her shoulder.

"Pleasure to meet you, da? My name is Ivan." He let go of Jordan's hand and turned amethyst eyes to Ashley. "Who is this one? She is like a mini-me."

"I'm Ashley," The shorter Russia cosplayer smiled. "Yes, this is my real hair. Yes, I have boobs, and NO. I'm NOT short!"

"….I don't recall saying you were."

"Then we're all good!" Ashley grinned. "Hey, you're tall and can see over people's heads. Can you help us find her brother?" She pointed at Jordan. "He's cosplaying Canada, and he's reeeaaaally tall (well, as tall as you, at least) and we need to give him his convention ID. If you help us, we'll help you find the right America." Russia thought about this for a minute.

"Okay. That sounds fair, da?" He nodded.

"Great!" Jordan grinned. "Also, his 'Kumajirou' is really a Pomeranian, so keep an eye out for something white and fuzzy that likes to play fetch with anything remotely ball and/or stick-like…..don't tell the security guards, though, 'cause I think it's disallowed." Russia blinked curiously and tilted his head.

"Then why bring a dog?" He asked. Ashley giggled.

"Because Michael's too manly for a teddy bear." Jordan snickered. Russia's head fell to one side again.

"How is that more manly than a bear toy?" He wondered.

"Apparently, Kuma can pop up out of his sweatshirt and attack unsuspecting attackers." Jordan recalled.

"Plus, a living thing is warmer than a stuffed bear." Ashley added. Jordan nodded.

"Good point, good point. Now, let us begin..." Jordan looked around from her humble post. She could see numerous Kingdom Hearts cosplayers (were they mobbing this weekend?), numerous other Hetalia cosplayers, but no other Americas, or people she recognized (or Canadas...odd). There were a few martial arts/samurai/ninja themed cosplayers, staff members, the guy/girl in the Halo suit, artists still setting up in the mouth of Artist's Alley, people unloading merchandise for the Dealer's Room, and people in street clothes wandering in and out of the games room. "Well, I got nothing." Jordan announced.

"Me either." Ashley spun around, her false sunflower bobbing above her head like a periscope. "You see anything, big-Russia?"

"Nyet."

"Crap..."

* * *

Encounter with psychotic Russia: check. Still a short chapter, but hopefully, this will be the shortest.


	6. FrUK R&R

Chapter six. Introducing Roy and Richard...and France and England. XD

* * *

"Have you got a good grip?"

"Yes, yes, I 'ave it."

"Are you sure? We don't have a spare-"

"Richard, I 'ave it, stop worrying!"

"Alright…."

_CLANG._

"….ROY!"

"W'oops…." Richard Picard pinched the bridge of his nose and took a slow, deep breath. Up on the stage, Roy Justice shrugged sheepishly. "Erm….at least it did not break, oui?" Richard bent down and picked up the small amplifier he'd been trying to pass up to his cosplaying companion.

"That's it, get down here." He ordered. "You hand things up, and I'll do the heavy lifting." Roy put on a pouty face and slumped his shoulders, sulkily climbing down from the stage. Richard resolved to keep a poker face, even though the obvious regret of the other made his anger dissolve. "Here," He picked up a smaller box and thrust it into Roy's arms. "Start with the small stuff, an' we'll work our way up to the big buggers."

"D'accord." Roy smiled a tiny bit. The 'sad puppy' ploy had worked! As it always did, but that wasn't the point. Richard climbed up onto the stage, then turned around and held out his hands expectantly. Roy obediently handed up the box, and turned to grab another as Richard slid the cardboard along the worn floor of the well-used but makeshift stage. They got a fair amount of the work done in this manner - all the smaller, lighter boxes were in place by the time they ran into trouble.

Quite suddenly, a Japan cosplayer (a good one, too) raced through the room. He shot Richard and Roy a glance as he sped past, tossing out some sort of apology (at least, they assumed that was what he said) in Japanese as he hurried out of the side door, kicking out the doorstop with ninja reflexes and letting it fall shut behind him. Richard blinked.

"….what the hell was-"

"He went in here!" Both men blinked as two more cosplayers rushed inside, this time, England and France. The shorter blonde looked around with an obvious scowl. "I swore I saw him turn in here!" The taller blonde shrugged.

"Per'aps he used some of zose 'ninja skills'…" He suggested.

"Eh, if you are looking for a Japan cosplayer," Both men started and spun around when Roy spoke up. "Zen you just missed 'im."

"Went out the side door." Richard added, nodding at the aforementioned exit. "You'll have to go around, though - it locks from the outside. Wasn't supposed to be shut."

"Ah….security will not be 'appy with us for zat one…" Roy mused. Richard made a face.

"Belt up and hand me the next box." Roy smirked and stood to attention, throwing out a small salute.

"Aye, Captain." Richard gave his companion a very, very flat look.

"That joke is almost as old as you. Burn."

"Burn, yourself, _mon amor_ - we're ze same age." Roy giggled as he handed up the last of the smaller boxes. England let out a quiet, frustrated sigh.

By the time he and France managed to find their way to the other side of the room through the crowded, twisting convention halls, Japan would be long gone. He was in his element, here - he didn't need ninja skills, just a cosplay and other otakus to hide in. France seemed content to be done running, also. He'd passed so many lovely ladies out in the halls (and a few shirtless men!). He wouldn't mind abandoning this chase and going back…

"Would you like a hand?" England's voice snapped France out of his dreaming, and he looked over to see the two humans struggling to lift one of the larger boxes onto the stage.

"_Magnifique, je vous remercie_!" Roy grunted under the weight of the heavy container, half bent in a struggle to lift it up to Richard, who was having no more luck. "I think I can feel my zpine znapping…." He groaned dramatically. England hurried over, and with the strength of three, the box was lifted onto the stage. Richard pushed it back from the edge as Roy collapsed to the floor with a melodramatic groan. "_Je vous remercie, stranger!_" He smiled at England. "I am Roy Justice, and zis iz Richard Picard. 'Oo might you be?"

"Arthur Kirkland and Francis Bonnefoy…" England smirked. Then, he added hastily. "For the day, of course." Roy laughed as he stood up.

"You get very into character, zen." England traded a look with France.

"Yes…yes we do." He agreed. To his relief, Roy believed him, and France switched topics by pointing up to the stage.

"What is all ziz you two are moving, and shouldn't you 'ave 'elp?" Richard snorted, half laughing.

"Oh, if only." He walked to the edge of the stage and sat on the edge. "We've been doing this gig for how long now?" He glanced at Roy, but continued before the other could answer. "Three years maybe? Four? We're recouring guests, and we've never gotten a single staff member to lift a finger."

"Zen again, zis convention 'as been known for zome pretty bad fights." Roy added. "Crowded 'allways and short tempers make for un'appy cosplayers. Ze staff 'as enough trouble just keeping things under control az it iz. Besides," He grinned, "We don't need 'elp to do it." Richard twitched.

"That's what he said, and stop setting me up for those." He scowled. Roy giggled along with France, though it took England a minute to get the joke.

"Only when you ztop responding to zem, _mon amor_!"

* * *

Fail!Attempt to write a French accent. Also, if you can catch the joke about Richard, I'll give you a free Hetalia-themed request!


	7. Axis 2

Chapter 7! Hetalian Trekkie, I love you: Contact me for your free request!

* * *

"Ve~! Doitsu! Doitsu! Look what I found!" Germany very nearly cringed at the voice rising above the general chaos of the convention. He was seriously beginning to regret accepting America's offer for this visit. There were too many people as crazy as Italy and as rude as America, and he wasn't having a fun time in the least.

"Yes Italy…?" Germany turned around, hiding his scowl. The expression, however, immediately disappeared when he realized what Italy was so excited about. The shorter man bounced up to the German, dragging with him a younger human cosplaying as…..as Germany.

"I found a cosplayer of you! Isn't he cool!" Italy smiled innocently. "He has a cousin who cosplays as Prussia, too! What a coincidence, ve!" The younger cosplayer cleared his throat quietly.

"Excuse me….c-can I have my arm back please?" He asked quietly, just a tiny shiver in his voice. He spoke with a definite German accent, though it sounded lessened by a few years of living out of the country. Italy's smile faltered, then returned, and he let go quickly.

"Oh! _Mi dispiace!_ I forgot you were blind. That must have been scary, ve~" The cosplayer took back his arm, and Germany caught himself looking at the man's eyes. They were a plain, filmy white, and now that he was looking (despite his mental efforts to stop), he could see a thin scar beneath the makeup, running from the right side of the human's nose, across his face to his left temple.

_[It must have been an accident, then.]_ Germany thought. He reached out a hand, carefully touching the man's arm. He waited for the other to relax again (he would flinch too, being touched suddenly by some unseen person) before speaking. "You are here with your cousin, am I right?" The man nodded.

"Yes, Gillian. I was supposed to meet her at the elevators." He replied. Germany nodded, though he justified the action as habit, rather than for need. "She has Berlitz with her - my service dog. She was only a minute behind me."

"Then we will help you find your cousin. Right Italy?" Germany replied sternly. Italy threw a salute, grinning.

"Of course, ve~! I can't wait to meet Gillian! I wonder if she is as obnoxious as your brother, Germany?" The Italian asked, wrapping his arms around the cosplayer's and pulling him after his friend.

"That, I doubt…" Germany muttered under his breath. Okay, now he just had to find the right Prussia cosplayer….how hard could that be? Across the lobby, just as Germany and Italy disappeared into the crowd on their mission, Gillian and Michael came back around to the elevators. Berlitz whined and turned in a circle, stopping where her master had once been. There were too many strange people here - she wasn't a bloodhound! Gillian made a face.

"Aww…..Berlitz lost the trail." She whined. Michael scratched the ears of the squirming Pomeranian in his arms.

"She's a doberman, not a bloodhound." He pointed out. "She's trained to be around a lot of people - not to track someone through them." Gillian made a face. She would NOT accept this outcome. The albino thrust Berlitz's leash into Michael's hand and snatched up Kumajirou instead.

"I will not accept this." She declared out loud. Michael rolled his eyes, expecting another crazy, spontaneous, not-well-thought-out-in-the-least plan. He wasn't disappointed. "Gimme." She held the Pomeranian up over her head. "Bark if you see Markus."

"Gillian!" Michael hissed, looking around frantically to make sure no security guards were rushing to throw out his precious little pooch. "What the hell are you doing? You're gonna get us c-" Kumajirou started yapping. Gillian grinned and ruffled his ears.

"Good boy!" She handed the Pomeranian back to his Canadian owner with a triumphant grin. "Found him!" She grabbed Berlitz's leash and ran off, with the doberman following happily behind. Michael stared after her for a long minute, wearing a clear expression of 'girl-dun-lost-her-mind'. He sulkily folded his arms around the Pomeranian, blowing up the Canada-curl that was slowly losing its battle with gravity.

"Gillian's crazy, Kuma." The Pomeranian barked. "Why do we hang out with her?" Kumajirou looked up, leaning his head back against his owner's sweatshirt, and wagged his tail. Michael sighed. "Yeah, there's that..." He groaned. "Come on...let's go catch her before she gets herself kicked out on the first day..."

* * *

Whoops, I forgot to mention. XD Gillian actually isn't mine. She was created/inspired/brought into being by the lovely Spikyleaf Katana!


	8. Headache Inducing

Germany is really beginning to regret going to this convention-thing...XD

* * *

Squeezing your way through a crowded convention lobby was tough enough by itself. Squeezing your way through with your over-excitable, idiot friend was tougher. Leading a blind guy while squeezing your way through the crowd with your overexcite-able, idiot friend in tow? Neigh impossible.

Unless you were unfortunate enough to be Germany.

He stopped at the bottom of the steps and moved to the side, pulling Markus with him by the wrist. Once they had stopped, the blind cosplayer leaned on his collapsable staff, sitting back against the post of the stair railing as his…'hosts'? 'Kidnappers'? Looked around.

It was hard to pick out any one individual from this crowd, even after you narrowed the search down to the particular name Japan had given that damned manga…what was it…"Hetalia". Thankfully, the meaning had gone completely over Italy's head. Germany didn't feel like explaining that one…even it if was…sort of…true.

"Ve~ Doitsu, how are we going to find Markus' cousin?" Italy whined. "I don't see any Prussia's or albinos who aren't wearing wigs and contacts!" He complained. Germany blinked.

"You can tell they are wearing wigs and contacts from here?" He asked. Italy nodded, wearing his usual goofy grin. Germany sighed.

"If it helps, my cousin has this need to be the center of attention." Markus offered up. "If anything happens in the next hour that requires a massive crowd or security, we'll definitely find her there." Germany frowned. That actually wasn't much help. That just sounded like his own brother….who was actually the target of this 'Gillian's cosplay….which fit.

"Nee nee, Germany! Someone is waving to us~ Ciao!" Italy shouted, waving energetically across the lobby. Germany sighed.

"You know you don't have to wave back at everyone who thinks your…'cosplay'….is amazing, right?" He muttered. Italy smiled.

"Ve~ He's coming over!" He pointed out.

"Maaaaarkuuuuuus~" A cheery voice shouted, just loud enough to be heard above the crowd. "I found you~" The blind cosplayer tilted his head.

"…Noah? Ah!" Markus yelped in surprise when a shorter cosplayer - of Italy, no less - materialized from the crowd and tackled his middle in a tight hug.

"Ve~ It's a cosplayer of me!" Italy cheered. Germany groaned. God, no. ONE Italy was enough to fray his nerves, but TWO? Markus took a minute to get over the shock of being hugged out of the blue, and reached down to pry the shorter cosplayer off, holding him by his shoulders.

"Noah, seriously, don't do that…" He sighed. Noah grinned brightly.

"Right! Sorry! Forgot you can't see me coming!" He excused himself. Markus half-smiled and shook his head. Anyone else pretending to forget he was blind would get smacked, but…this was Noah. It wasn't such a long shot that he actually would forget.

"I don't suppose you have seen my cousin anywhere around, have you?" Markus asked. Noah shook his head.

"Nope! No Gillian. I have seen a Richard, an Amby, a Roy and a Kivi, though!" He reported. Markus tilted his head.

"I thought Amby and Kivi were unable to make it this year?" He thought out loud. Noah shrugged.

"Must've been a last minute change. SO! Ciao!" He spun around to face Italy, grinning. "Your cosplay is amazing, by the way! Really great grasp of the personality, too!"

"Veee~" Italy smiled. Germany sighed heavily. Why today, of all days, was it so hard to find a Prussia? There had to be fifty of them walking around in this one hotel, and they had yet to find one! This was turning into a long…long day….

* * *

Short, but it works. Noah does NOT belong to me. He was thought up, designed, and offered to me for use in this story by my friend takeachip. And since I'm not sure if I said this before, I'll say it again: Gillian was thought up, designed, and offered to me for use in this story by my friend SpikyLeaf. Also, Amby and Kivi are two more cosplayers, but they won't be seen until later.


	9. More R&R

_This….took me WAY too long to do. -_- I blame college and my inability to pick a third group member who isn't completely irresponsible or able to resist the lure to steal code. This time around, it's just me and one partner, and we're already a week ahead…so I had time to finally finish writing this out. I apologize for the long delay, but college takes priority._

* * *

France and Roy seemed to hit it off quite well, so England opted to hang around the humans as well…at least for a little while. He'd long lost track of the others in the crowds (which were much bigger than he'd expected, for a supposedly small convention), and figured it would be safer to, for the sake of his sanity, stick close (relatively speaking) to the devil he knew. And it wasn't all that bad. Richard seemed a nice enough bloke, if a bit immature in his humor.

The nation sipped quietly at his green tea (the kind made in a coffee maker, but it was the only kind of tea the on-site vendors sold) as he sat at a table with France and the humans, listening half-heartedly to their conversation (which was mostly in French) as he scanned the crowds for anyone familiar. At one point, he thought he saw Russia pass by on the upper balcony above the second level open cafe, but then he saw a smaller Russia and an America follow after him, and figured no, that couldn't possibly be THE Russia.

He tuned back in just as Richard started to choke on his own tea, due to some comment he'd translated out-of-context. After hacking up a mouthful of inhaled water and tea leaves, Richard started to giggle. Roy shook his head, wearing a smile. "Even I cannot zee zomet'ing racy in zat, mon amor." Richard wiped his mouth on the back of his hand, not a bit of shame in his expression.

"You forget - my mind has a time-share in the gutter." The cosplaying Brit grinned. "I can find raciness in anything, lad." He declared proudly. Roy rolled his eyes. France leaned back in his seat, crossing his legs at the knee and resting his arms across them.

"Zo…you two are performers, oui?" He clarified. The stage in that conference room had been littered with amplifiers, soundboards, and various instruments. "When exactly to you perform?" The nation asked.

"We have a set of three shows tonight, but those don't start until 4pm." Richard replied. "And since you two helped us set up today, we're several hours ahead of schedule, so we can actually explore the convention a bit." He smiled. "Some friends of ours run a table in the dealer's room - we could get you our discount as thanks, if you like." Richard offered. England hesitated, but Roy broke into a smile.

"C'est une idée fantastique!" (That's a fantastic idea!) He agreed. "Jaeger and Eliza make zee most wonderful things - you're bound to find zometh'ing you like!" There was a pause, an then the Frenchman elaborated for the blank stares he was getting. "Jaeger and Eliza Janosi are fellow cosplayers - Eliza iz Richard's cousin, actually. Ze make a living by zelling very detailed and 'andmade costumes and accessories."

"They usually sell at the big conventions, but every year or so they break off and go to a few smaller ones - always some familiar faces, around here." Richard added, grinning. England hesitated, more inclined to decline the offer (he had enough items around his home, and he hadn't come all the way here just to shop) but Roy spoke up again.

"Even if you do not find zomet'ing you want there, they can make almost anyt'ing!" The Frenchman added cheerily. "They love challenges, and it iz an eighty percent discount~!" France chuckled and gave England a smile.

"Why not go, Angelterre? Ziz could be fun!" He cajoled. England narrowed his eyes at the nickname, but he sighed. It wasn't like he had anything better to do around this place - it would be rude to just leave….and it was a pretty nice discount, after all.

"I suppose we could….." He finally replied. Roy shouted something in French that he could only assume was a cheer and hopped up from the bench, practically bouncing off toward the dealer's room. Richard stood up at a more acceptable pace, and gestured for the two nations to follow him. France stood up and joined the throng of people with his usual grin, though England followed behind at a slower pace. He should be grateful that he seemed to have found at least a few sane minds among this chaos…

….even if one of them was French


	10. Even MORE R&R

_My fellow readers! I am in need of your assistance! The first convention will end in a few chapters, and then I will skip to the second, where the real plot will begin. BUT. In the time between the first and second conventions, several characters introduced in previous chapters will leave._

_THIS IS YOUR CHANCE._

_I need cameo cosplayers who would be willing to take either a bit part or a longer-term position. Nyotalia cosplayers are welcomed with open arms, as are fetish-type (for lack of a better term) cosplayers such as Snapped!Canada, Police!UK, Superhero!America (Captain America XD), Britannia Angel, Medieval! or Revolution!France, Chibitalia anything, ect._

_Those who are asked to stay on longer will be brought into the chapter-drafting process via PMs, as well as the overall plot discussion, and each cameo will be credited to the volunteering author/authoress in the opening notes of the chapter. Call me lazy or call me desperate. I think it would give this story unparalleled flair to have cameo players._

* * *

The dealer's room was unusually busy for a first day.

Most people there weren't in cosplay, and some were even shopping for it. There were countless tables selling figurines, toys, art books, DVDs, posters, trading cards…anything anime-related there was to sell, really. A pair of security guards hung back by the doors, talking to each other just out of reach of the chaos they had to keep an eye on. The room itself was relatively small - maybe a conference room or a lounge when the convention wasn't in town. Tables lined the walls, and a square of them took up the middle of the room, leaving just enough space for a walkway around it. On the far side of the room was another door - propped open, though only a few people came and went through it.

"Eliza and Jaeger are through there," Richard raised his voice to be heard above the noise. "They've got one of the bigger tables, in the side room." He pointed across to the door. Roy had somehow already wriggled through the crowds, and waved at them from across the room. "Watch your toes, and remember to duck-" Richard demonstrated as he dropped low to avoid being whacked in the head by a foam replica of a bankai being toted about by a not-so-vigilant Ichigo. "People don't always pay much attention in here."

"Bloody hell…" England muttered as they began the fight through the crowds. How on Earth could such a tiny room be so busy! It took then almost five minutes to fight their way across a room that would normally only take a few seconds to cross. A grinning Roy was waiting for them at the doors, and gestured them inside. Across the threshold, it was much, much cooler - fewer people in one space lent to a lower overall temperature - and there were only a few tables, all circling the walls. These tables were much larger and much more lavish than those in the first room - obviously, a lot of care had gone into their setup and presentation. No simple marker-and-cardboard signs here - they were all woodwork, metalwork, excruciatingly hand-painted or woven…

"Such craftsmanship~" France smiled as the humans began leading them across the significantly less crowded room. "C'est tellement beau!" (It's so lovely!) England silently agreed as they passed by a booth where an artist was sketching out a rough commission idea with a client - something to be done in stained glass, with an iron boarder, from the looks of it. The people who came here had to be passionate about their ideas.

"Richard!" A cheery voice cut across the room as a brunette woman in a Hungary cosplay started waving. "Over here, honey!" Richard smiled and waved back, then gestured for the other three to follow him over. The woman hurried around the end of the table and rushed out to hug her cousin with a bright smile. "So glad you could come this year!" She stepped back, then moved to hug Roy. "It feels like it's been years since AmeCon!"

"Only one year, love." Richard corrected with a cheeky smirk as his partner struggled to extract himself from his cousin's exuberant hug. He turned and gave England and France a quick shrug, one meant to say 'family - go figure' before turning back. "Is Jaeger around?" He asked as Eliza finally released Roy and stepped back. The woman nodded.

"Oh, he's around here somewhere, I'll bet. We just finished setting up the last of today's display. Come, come! Have a look!" She hurried back around the table, hiking up her dress momentarily to hop over an errant box in her way. "I see you brought some new faces, so I'll do a little introductory speech." She smiled brightly. It was always a good thing when her cousin brought people specifically to her - either they were willing to spend a lot for something they wanted, or they'd done Richard and Roy a good service (and she knew from experience that those two needed the help, God bless'em).

Fine by her. Any business was good business.

"My husband and I make most everything by hand, though we occasionally collaborate on metal and woodwork details with another convention-going booth." Eliza explained. She waved her hands over the displayed objects on the table. "We specialize in historically themed replicas of items and clothing, both wearable and for display…" She gestured to the other half of the table, where the crowns and scepters and ornately decorated weapons shifted from a base in reality to fiction. "We also take commissions." Eliza turned so they could see the costumes hung on a tall plastic mesh behind the stand.

"These are the cosplays we sell. Jaeger does all the base work, and I add all the details. We also take commissions for these, but we love doing cosplays with fine detail." She added. "It makes the project much more fun and - to throw modesty out the window for a moment - we like to show off." Eliza grinned. "So! I'm assume R&R promised you their discount?" She chuckled. "Go ahead and pick whatever you like. We can apply that discount to commissions, too! We'd love to get an early start on work this weekend."

"Ce serait merveilleux, madame." (That would be wonderful, madame.) France returned Eliza's bright smile with one of his own, already browsing some of the historical replicas (recreated belt buckles and hat badges, diadems, wire-work pendants, etc). Richard smiled proudly for his successful customer wrangling, then waved to Eliza.

"Keep an eye on Roy for me, will ya? I need to go find someone to get that side door open again in the auditorium. Damn thing locked itself." He griped. Eliza shook her head, but smiled.

"Sure, I'll be your partner-sitter. But only if I can use him to draw in new customers." She added. Richard made a face, but quickly relented. He really did need to get that door opened up again (he wasn't too keen on getting into a yelling match with security about safety violations).

"Only if they aren't super-yaoi France fangirls…" He muttered, turning to walk away. She could use him as a poster, fine. Just no touching.


End file.
